Candle Light Blazes
by ITell
Summary: Plotless drabbles about 2 Sherlock characters placed in the Revolution universe. Now up: Jim Moriarty!
1. The Downfall of Mycroft Holmes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Sad, predictable, but true - nothing's mine except the plot. (If any.)**

** I also do not own Revolution - which, I presume, belongs to it's creators (be damned if I can remember their names) - though I look forward to seeing it back on the air.**

** Basically what I mean here is that I do not intend to commit copyright infringement at all. So if I do, I'm sorry.**

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Mycroft Holmes knew what was coming. Though he was powerless to stop it. Not even the most powerful man in Britain - in all the Commonwealth, really - could prevent this _inevitability._

He sighed in resigned acceptance. There was no changing the past. What was done, was done. He could only look to the future.

He gazed out his window as carlights twinkled and the flocks of sheep-like citizens made their way to their houses.

A change was coming. An unknown path. Dark times lay ahead._ 'A revolution.'_ Mycroft thought bitterly, considering his glass of fine scotch.

Mycroft prayed that Sherlock would be alright - truthfully he had little doubts of his brother's survival, with the good doctor at his side.

Then again, for a man of logic, Mycroft prayed alot that day.

He stood at his window on the top floor of the Houses of Parliment. He observed the lights of the city - it's life force, his home.

Car lights raced back and forth like ants in a colony, blazing like fire. As if London were burning. His gilded hall in all it's glory.

Then it happened. The Black Out. In rapid succession the lights of the country died. The sudden darkness was akin to the horrific, smouldering, ashy aftermath of a bush fire.

Silence fell on the city of London.

Mycroft finished his scotch, hawk-like eyes on his fallen kingdom.

Then the screaming began.

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**A/N: ** Thanks to **The Death Frisbee, jack63kids **and **thedragonaunt **for their advice on tumblers, alcohol differences and drabbles. Also thanks to all the ladies in **Mrs Hudson's Kitchen **for helping me and keeping me entertained through my dry spell.

This came to me in the middle of the night after a legendary spout of writer's block, that shall forever go down in my history as The Great Word Block of 0'13.

I probably won't be all that reliable with updates, but next up: Jim Moriarty! (If I haven't updated in two weeks feel free to send me a PM with a cyber kick up the backside!)

Thank you for reading, enjoy your day!

Any and all reviews and PM's are welcome, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is very useful to me. I will endevour to respond to all of them.


	2. Playtime With Jim Moriarty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Revolution. Because if I did, my brain would explode with the sheer joy of it.**

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Jim Moriarty knew what he was doing. Of course he did. Insane though he was, he was still a genius.

Really, he just wanted to have some _fun. _People were never fun these days. Too busy drooling over their favourite soap dramas and eating microwave meals on trays.

People had just become depressingly stupid! It was untolerable, and _completely _inexcusable to Jim - there just wasn't a good enough excuse for it!

He had a solution though. He could solve _this _problem.

So he did. There, simple.

Wham, bam, thank you Sam! He contracted a man in America, a DOD employee, Randall, who led a team of researchers experimenting with the creation of environmentally sound energy and asked him to continue their research - except backwards. He wanted _all _ the power out.

The man naturally refused - until Jim threatened to cut off his eye lids. People are so predictibly co-operative when sadistic forms of violence are threatened. And a psychopath's smile never hurt anyone either. (Just the reason why he was smiling.)

People were as simple as a theoretic algorithm. They both need structure, a clear solution, the map layed out and they were happy. Take out the Pi, remove Infinity and you have glorious, unpredictible chaos.

Beautiful.

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**A/N: **Yeah okay, I have no excuses for my lateness, so we'll just skip this part.

It was pretty fun writing this from Moriarty's sort of point of view of the world - is that weird?

I know absolutely nothing about algorithm's and stuff like that, but I've always felt that Moriarty is obsessed with numbers (as well as Sherlock.) So I just bung together a bunch of tidbits that I remember from maths class and hoped for the best. I hope for those who _are_ good at maths that it isn't too ridiculous!

I am also done with this story, so I'm hitting the complete button. If I think up anymore I'll write a sequel - but really that's pretty unlikely.

Any and all reviews and PM's are welcome, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is very useful to me. I will endevour to respond to all of them.


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